


i love you and goodbye; i want you but oh, my aching heart

by ernestdummkompf (JehanFerres)



Category: Don Carlos - Friedrich Schiller, Don Carlos | Don Carlo - Verdi/du Locle/Méry
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanFerres/pseuds/ernestdummkompf
Summary: rodrigo is going to malta. carlo is not happy.





	i love you and goodbye; i want you but oh, my aching heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [widevibratobitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/widevibratobitch/gifts).



> **  
> _THIS IS EXPLICIT. IF YOU ARE SOMEBODY I KNOW IRL AND HAVE GIVEN THE NAME OF THIS ACCOUNT MAYBE DON'T READ IT._  
>  ** (apart from you, widevibratobitch, this is your christmas present.)
> 
>  
> 
> this actually started life as a chapter of something that i wrote During The Month Of November for nanowrimo. however, quite aside from the the fact that this as a chapter was just under twice the length of most of the other chapters, it's a flashback to carlo and rodrigo's first time so... i just kinda ended up going like "nah. this gets to be a separate fic." happy christmas, here's something gay.
> 
> title is the... intended translation of the chorus of [spanish bombs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ertt3o1x65c) by the clash. the actual words are not in spanish, or indeed in any identifiable language: "yo t'quierro y finito, yo te querda, oh ma côrazon". anyway i like the clash and tbh the song itself has some Strong Rodrigo Energy. (the song itself also goes the fuck off so i would ABSOLUTELY suggest that you listen to it.)
> 
> finally... this quite literally is just ~9000 words of Carlo And Rodrigo Going At It, Featuring Angst.

Even though Rodrigo spent the night after he learned of the deaths of his father and his older brother with Carlo in his rooms, he was gone before Carlo woke up the next morning. Carlo had never been an early riser while Rodrigo could barely be persuaded to remain in bed for more than five hours, so it wasn’t entirely a surprise, and he tried to put his anxiety out of his mind. Even so, since Carlo had seen the state that Rodrigo was in the previous day, the fact that he had apparently disappeared was still a worry for him.

As the day went on, Carlo became increasingly worried about Rodrigo, and just more and more as the week continued. He saw Rodrigo once or twice, usually with his mother and sisters, looking pale and washed out, but every time Carlo tried to ask how he was feeling, if he needed help or somebody to talk to, Rodrigo would just brush him off. Of course, Rodrigo was polite about it and he turned Carlo down gently, but it still stung Carlo and made him worry even more when Rodrigo could barely even look at him.

Carlo was worried enough the day of the funeral, even without the fact that Rodrigo had seemingly been ignoring him. In fact, Carlo almost considered going in search of Rodrigo once he had dressed, just to find out if he needed any emotional support and to let him know that he didn’t even need to talk; Carlo just wanted to know if he was alright.

It turned out that Carlo didn’t need to go in search of Rodrigo. Just as he was beginning to get particularly worried, there was a timid knock on the door of Carlo’s bedchamber, and as soon as he opened the door, Rodrigo tumbled through the door and into Carlo’s arms. For a second, Carlo was almost annoyed that Rodrigo would react like this – ignore him for a week when all he wanted was to help him, and then appear unannounced without a word – but all that melted away when he felt Rodrigo sobbing against his shoulder. He put his arms properly around Rodrigo and carded his hands gently through his hair until Rodrigo seemed if not to stop crying to at least be crying _less_ , to an extent that allowed him to breathe properly.

Carlo carded the hand not resting on Rodrigo’s back through his friend’s hair as he waited for him to stop crying, or to calm down to an extent where he felt better enough to lean away from Carlo’s chest. He didn’t know entirely what to do to help – Rodrigo was usually so reserved, and he had only ever really showed sadness like this once before when they had both been young, after the disastrous game of badminton. But Carlo still found himself holding Rodrigo against him and softly running his fingers over his scalp.

Carlo wanted to say something, anything, to try to comfort Rodrigo, but what _could_ he say in this situation? He had an awful relationship with his own father and no siblings to speak of, but Rodrigo had been so close to both his father _and_ his older brother. He could do nothing to change what had happened, he knew that, and he couldn’t offer any real empathy because it wasn’t an experience that he thought he could ever relate to. He hated to say it, but he thought that he would probably be glad if his own father died.

He tried not to think about that. Instead, he gently drew Rodrigo’s head away from his chest so that he could look at him properly. His eyes were still red and puffy, and it was obvious that he had been crying, but at least he was no longer in tears, and at least he seemed to be willing to accept comfort from Carlo. Carlo felt dreadful for Rodrigo on so many levels – this had completely scuppered all of his plans for his life and he could tell that Rodrigo felt completely cut adrift and without anybody he could turn to for help. Carlo just hoped that Rodrigo would let him at least _try_ to offer advice.

Carlo was just glad that Rodrigo’s family liked him. His father and his oldest siblings – his now deceased brother and the oldest of his three sisters – had always viewed Carlo with a sort of amused tolerance, especially since they could tell just how highly he thought of Rodrigo. Rodrigo’s father had even joked once that Rodrigo might be Carlo’s Grand Inquisitor when Carlo became King. (Carlo had been glad that Rodrigo had reacted with vague distaste at the idea – the Inquisition made Carlo uncomfortable and he sometimes had nightmares involving auto-da-fés but he didn’t want to mention that.)

The fact that Rodrigo’s family were all so fond of Carlo, and the fact that they knew that Rodrigo trusted Carlo, meant that when they arrived for the funeral, Rodrigo’s mother gently took Carlo aside and told her to sit a row back with Rodrigo, please, and look after him. Every part of Carlo was glad that Rodrigo had parents who genuinely cared about him; even though he resented most other people whose parents were even willing to give them the time of day for a second, he had never envied Rodrigo’s closeness to his family. Especially now, because Rodrigo didn’t like anybody to see him upset or emotional.

He managed to sit down a row back with Rodrigo with a fair amount of subtlety. It was either that or Rodrigo was too emotionally spent to manage to protest the fact that Carlo was treating him like he was fragile; he couldn’t imagine that this was treatment that Rodrigo wanted. Not in public, at least. Even though Carlo wanted to hold him, or even put a hand on his shoulder, he knew that doing so would just upset Rodrigo further because he hated being seen as anything other than strong.

They were close enough together on the pew that Carlo could lean over and take Rodrigo’s hand without anybody being able to see that he was doing so, though. He gave it almost a ridiculous amount of thought, but when Carlo finally reached and slipped his hand into Rodrigo’s, even though Rodrigo gave no visible response, still sat with his face propped up on his other hand, he squeezed Carlo’s hand in thanks.

Rodrigo had positioned himself near to the wall of the chapel, and at such an angle and with his head bent down in a way that meant that it wasn’t possible to tell that he was crying. Of course, Carlo still knew he was in tears. He could see him occasionally wiping his fingers or his thumb over his eyes, but he was completely silent, even though Carlo knew that it wasn’t in any way natural for him. Carlo was at a loss for what to do without drawing attention that Rodrigo wouldn’t want, but he still put his hand over Rodrigo’s.

Rodrigo was still in no state to move at the end of the ceremony. He was trembling now, gripping Carlo’s hand tightly enough that his nails were digging into Carlo’s skin. As she got up, Carlo indicated to Rodrigo’s mother that they would be along in a minute, but that now, he would stay with Rodrigo to take care of him. Rodrigo barely seemed aware that anybody was leaving the chapel, and he didn’t acknowledge his mother gently ruffling his hair even though he usually reacted to that with vague annoyance.

Carlo turned his head slightly to make sure that they were the only people there, and once the last few stragglers had left the chapel and the monks were conspicuously not paying attention to either of them (he could tell that they were, but they weren’t going to say anything about it), he pulled Rodrigo over and let him bury his face against his chest. Rodrigo wasn’t sobbing now – but Carlo could still feel him shaking against him and he was gripping Carlo’s shoulders tightly. Carlo was holding him with one hand on his back, but his free hand was winding through Rodrigo’s hair, and both of Rodrigo’s arms were wrapped around Carlo’s shoulders.

“Carlo, I…” Rodrigo pulled back away from his shoulder, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. He slumped forward with his head on Carlo’s shoulder, no longer crying but obviously completely emotionally spent. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, taking hold of Carlo’s hand.

“Don’t apologise.” Carlo squeezed his hand tightly and ran his fingers through Rodrigo’s hair. Carlo had mussed it up while he had been holding him and trying to comfort him, and now he found himself smoothing it back down again. “I…” He started to say that he understood, but that was completely false. He didn’t remember his mother, she had died when he was five days old, and his relationship with his father was awful. More to the point, though, Rodrigo knew it, and Carlo knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t want to be comforted in a false way. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this, especially not so young.”

For the next week, Carlo and Rodrigo were together practically constantly. At first it was just because Rodrigo didn’t want to stop being held, and his mother and sisters didn’t mind, but eventually it became more like it had been before. Even if Rodrigo’s father was dead now, it was clear that he loved Carlo’s company, and that having him there at such a sad time was reassuring to him. Carlo was the only person who was acting at least somewhat normal towards him, and the fact that he didn’t need to be asked to take care of Rodrigo was reassuring.

Even though Rodrigo stopped crying at night after a while and started accepting it when Carlo wanted to put his arms around him and smiled a little more, even if it was wanly, Carlo was still concerned for Rodrigo when he disappeared again. It was seven days after the funeral, and Rodrigo disappeared at some point during the night, somehow without disturbing Carlo, even though he was a particularly light sleeper. Even though Carlo tried not to let it worry him, he was still a naturally anxious person and he found himself particularly missing having Rodrigo in the bed next to him at night.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t think Rodrigo was particularly wonderful. He always had, even when they were children and it was a completely innocent regard for him. But they had grown up together, and throughout their childhood and Carlo’s early adulthood, because Rodrigo was still a week from being eighteen, the way he saw Rodrigo had changed considerably. He had allowed Rodrigo to do more or less anything he wanted where their friendship was concerned, and he couldn’t help thinking that this was less than appropriate for any young man, let alone the heir to the throne.

He still only wanted to be with Rodrigo, but the extent to which he wanted to be with Rodrigo was becoming less and less clear. He felt bad for even thinking about it at a time when the person he was thinking of in this way had just lost his father and his older brother and had his entire life turned upside-down, but he couldn’t help himself. Rodrigo was a wonderful person quite aside from how much Carlo loved him, but the fact that he was so genuinely _interested_ in Carlo as a person was just one thing that drew Carlo to him.

Carlo’s father took very little interest in his son’s actions, even he raised his eyebrows a little at the fact that the heir apparent of his empire had been following around the younger son of a Marquis being trained for the Priesthood like a lost puppy since his childhood. Carlo had always had other playfellows his age in childhood, often of noble or royal families, but none of them had been Rodrigo.

At first, it had been possessiveness and greed. He had wanted Rodrigo to love him as much as all the other children of the court had pretended that they did but Rodrigo had never done that; he had never bothered to hide his feelings of annoyance for Carlo clinging to him and refusing to leave him alone. As Rodrigo continued to rebuff him, and then as they grew close, Carlo had stopped being completely able to put a name to how he felt for Rodrigo. He had thought he just wanted to have Rodrigo as a friend. Over time he had grown less and less sure.

He felt hideous for it, but the point at which he had realised that no, he didn’t just want Rodrigo to be close to him as a future advisor, or even as a friend, but that he wanted Rodrigo in a romantic and sexual way, had been when Rodrigo had come to his rooms in tears. It was something about the fact that Rodrigo had just flung himself into his arms and demanded to be held – but Carlo also couldn’t help thinking that really, he had had feelings for Rodrigo in this way for some time. He still felt awful for the fact that it had been _this_ , Rodrigo’s father and brother dying, that had truly brought about the revelation, but it couldn’t be helped.

For the entirety of the week during which Carlo didn’t see Rodrigo, he found himself wandering around the palace and its grounds at all hours of the day and the night. He missed Rodrigo all the time, but it was particularly bad at night, when Rodrigo _had_ been sleeping with his arms wound around Carlo or his head against Carlo’s shoulder or his chest. Even though Carlo tried to distract himself from the fact that Rodrigo wasn’t there, he simply couldn’t sleep, or focus on his studies, or think properly. Functionally, he was more or less useless.

On the seventh day, when Carlo was wandering around the walls of the palace, having slipped out at night because he couldn’t sleep, he found Rodrigo again. Instantly as he saw him, Carlo knew that something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. The trauma that Rodrigo had been through recently had clearly taken a toll on him; when he got close enough to Rodrigo to be standing beside him there were grey hairs around his temples that certainly hadn’t been there before, and Carlo could tell that he had lost weight.

Still, he was here now, and Carlo was so _relieved_ to see him again. When he put his hand over Rodrigo’s, partly in greeting and partly for comfort, Rodrigo turned and leaned into him. His head rested in the crook of Carlo’s shoulder, and God, Rodrigo was already close enough that if he just turned and lifted his chin, he could have kissed him. Nobody would have known except for them. Carlo tried to push the thought out of his head even so – there was no sense in dwelling on how attracted he felt to Rodrigo, especially not when Rodrigo was apparently avoiding him, or had been.

“Where have you been?” Carlo asked gently, running his fingers through Rodrigo’s hair and lightly touching the back of his neck. Rodrigo inhaled sharply in a way that Carlo struggled to classify but that he _liked_. “You disappeared again, I missed you.” As Carlo spoke, Rodrigo laughed quietly, but he offered no reply.

For a second Carlo was relieved that he had at least made Rodrigo smile, but suddenly he became intensely aware of the way that Rodrigo had his face pressed against his skin. It was the beginning of summer and Madrid was starting to get warm even in the evenings, so Carlo wasn’t wearing a doublet, only a shirt, which wasn’t fastened. This, coupled with the fact that his shirt was slightly too big for him, meant that Rodrigo’s face was dangerously close to the skin of his neck and his shoulder.

Carlo was sensitive enough to being touched as it was, but Rodrigo had reached the point between haircuts where, if he leaned close enough to Carlo and put his face near his shoulder as he was doing now, his hair brushed against Carlo’s skin. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, so Carlo could feel his stubble brushing against the sensitive skin between his neck and his shoulder, and he could feel his breath ruffling his shirt and _God_. The more Carlo tried not to think about how much he wanted Rodrigo, the more difficult it became, along with thinking more or less anything at all.

Rodrigo stayed like that, his head pressed against Carlo’s shoulder and his hand clasped in Carlo’s, for what would have been an uncomfortably long time had it not been Rodrigo and had Carlo not adored him heart and soul. When he pulled away, Carlo was very nearly disappointed, but he could tell that Rodrigo had something important to talk about.

“I was with my mother and my sisters.”

Everything about the hurt in Rodrigo’s voice when he spoke just made Carlo feel even worse. Of _course_ Rodrigo had been with his family – they had just lost a father and a husband, and a brother and a son. Carlo was naturally far less important than that, even though he _wished_ he could somehow be part of their family. Of course, what he wished for could never happen; he could never marry Rodrigo, or even express the love he felt for him, and a match would probably be found with some foreign princess soon, but he could hope, and imagine.

“I’m sorry.” Carlo touched his hand to Rodrigo’s cheek, and, even though Carlo had done this hundreds of times before, he was always surprised by the fact that Rodrigo leaned into it. It almost put Carlo in mind of an affectionate cat. “How are you… how are you feeling?” He didn’t know how to ask otherwise, and even though he desperately wanted to help Rodrigo he wasn’t sure how.

“I’m not sure,” Rodrigo admitted. Carlo could tell from the way he looked down at his hands that Rodrigo didn’t want to talk about it in any case, and he didn’t try. “I… Carlo, my father was about to go to Malta when he was killed. So was my brother.” Rodrigo still couldn’t look at him.

“I know he was.” Carlo touched Rodrigo’s cheek and turned him to face him.

He was completely confused as to why Rodrigo was telling him this – Rodrigo’s mother, and Rodrigo, and all four of his sisters, had proudly explained this to Carlo frequently enough that he had practically memorised their entire itinerary. They were – or had been – going to provide relief to a besieged St. Elmo, being attacked by the Saracens. Even though Carlo did share Rodrigo and his family’s pride he found the idea of religious war troubling, but he had never said as much out loud.

Several seconds of silence passed, and Carlo almost dropped the subject and apologised, until Rodrigo suddenly blurted out, “I’m going out there. Instead.” The second the words were out of his mouth, Rodrigo turned his back and leaned over as though he was afraid or ashamed to even look at Carlo. “I’ve been eighteen for a week now, I’m not a child. There’s no sense to me staying here when I could be doing something that my father and brother wanted to but couldn’t.” Carlo didn’t say anything, because there was nothing that he _could_ say. “My father wouldn’t want me to sit around without changing what I was going to do with my life. Nor would my brother. I know that.”

Suddenly all of the sympathy and compassion that Carlo had built up for Rodrigo over the last few weeks dissipated entirely and suddenly. Only the fact that Rodrigo was considerably stronger than him and that, despite the fact that he had decided to do _this_ , Carlo loved him, stopped Carlo from grabbing him and punching him in the face. He clenched his fist so hard that his fingers bit into the skin of the palms of his hands and found himself inwardly cursing Rodrigo for doing this to them both.

“Rodrigo, I… What are you doing? You were studying to become a _priest_! For heaven’s sake, you’ve barely held a sword in your life!” Carlo still snapped at him, though; that was something he couldn’t hold himself back from no matter how hard he tried. Maybe he and Rodrigo _weren’t_ so well suited after all.

“I don’t just… I don’t just disappear and wait for you to need me for something again when we aren’t together, you know,” Rodrigo said, and although he didn’t match the anger in Carlo’s tone, because nobody, not even Rodrigo, could match Carlo’s fury when he felt threatened or unwanted, he sounded bitter. “I can use a sword, I can fight, I just never got the chance to.” He was trying to calm himself down, Carlo could tell that, and Rodrigo would never want a fight, or at least not with Carlo.

Even so, Rodrigo still sounded furious, and if Carlo hadn’t been angry too then he would have felt threatened by it. Carlo had never thought about it before because Rodrigo was so gentle by nature, but Rodrigo was considerably taller, and now that he was finished growing, he had become considerably more muscular than Carlo, who was still slight and skinny as Rodrigo had been in previous years. Carlo still wasn’t completely finished growing even though he was older than Rodrigo by almost two years, and Rodrigo was muscular, rather than awkward and rangy as he had been when they had been children, and as Carlo still was.

Rodrigo had grown taller first, and every time Carlo had followed, he had never got quite as tall, so he was still lagging behind in terms of height and probably would be for the rest of his life. Even so, nothing about Rodrigo, until now, had ever struck him as being capable of being a threat to anybody. The fact that he was going to go and fight in a war shouldn’t have changed things – but it still somehow _did_ change the image that Carlo had of Rodrigo in his head.

Rodrigo turned back to look at him, and even though Carlo could see tears in his eyes he couldn’t bring himself to even care. Yes, he felt dreadful, somewhere in the back of his mind, but the rest of his mind was filled with fury. He wanted Rodrigo to hurt as much as he did now, as horrible as that was, either at a time like this or any other time, really.

“I know you’re upset, Carlo,” Rodrigo said, more quietly now, but Carlo was trying _so hard_ to hate everything Rodrigo did now, so he couldn’t take it to heart. His head was full of whirling thoughts and he couldn’t think anything kind about Rodrigo, no matter how much he adored him. “I know,” he reiterated, “but I have to do this.”

Carlo didn’t say anything, and he knew that Rodrigo could tell that he was just _daring_ him to try to justify himself, but Rodrigo had passed the point of caring about himself or anybody else when his father and brother had died. “I wish I wasn’t hurting you, but I could never have been a priest, not after my father and brother died.” Carlo’s face almost softened. “I can’t make myself _want_ to be peaceful, let alone actually _be_ peaceful.”

“I can’t think of anything more violent than the Inquisition.”

“Carlo…” Rodrigo just sighed. “I’m not _trying_ to hurt you but you’re just making this worse for both of us, you know that.”

“Of course I am!” Carlo spat, and Rodrigo jumped back when he heard just how angry he was. He had never seen Carlo truly angry – upset, yes, and extremely emotional, but never _angry_. He had always thought he could never _be_ angry with Rodrigo, but now he was absolutely furious. “You’re not–” He cut himself off. “You’re hurting yourself _and_ you’re ruining my life!”

A brief look of anger flashed across Rodrigo’s face, and for a moment, Carlo sincerely thought that he had finally got the fight that he wanted out of Rodrigo. “Your life?” He just sounded tired. “How does this hurt you at all?” he asked. “I know I might die, and my family know I might die too.” And clearly, _Carlo_ knew that he might die, and he didn’t know why Rodrigo hadn’t considered him anywhere in his stupid scheme. “If I _do_ die, then I’m the only one affected. You carry on living and I’m sure there’s somebody who can replace me.” He shrugged, and for a second Carlo almost felt sorry.

“Of _course_ it affects me if you die!” Carlo was still angry, but now he was angry at himself, too. “God, if _you_ die then I won’t have any friends, you know that.” Rodrigo opened his mouth, Carlo guessed to complain that he was just making him feel guilty and to stop, but Carlo was already too far gone to care about anybody but himself. “Rodrigo, you are the only friend I have.”

“You can find somebody else.” Rodrigo didn’t sound angry, just defeated, and the longer this went on the more intensely Carlo wanted to slap some sense into him. “You’ll be King eventually, and you’ll marry…” He paused, and Carlo hated the look that crossed his face, even though he couldn’t place what it was. “I don’t know. Some foreign noblewoman or other.” He shrugged. “You’ll forget all about me.” Coming from Rodrigo it just hurt to hear, but it had sounded like a reassurance and not a threat. He barely even sounded bitter considering the prospect.

Carlo did not find the idea reassuring. He stepped forward, and when he did, Rodrigo flinched. _God, Rodrigo, you’re scared even to let me touch you_ , Carlo thought. _How can you hope to go to fight in a war?_

“Rodrigo, do you really have that low an opinion of yourself?” He took Rodrigo’s hands, and was glad when Rodrigo didn’t pull away. “I’m not angry with you,” he continued. “Or… I am, but I don’t want to be.” Rodrigo still didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look so upset or angry any more. “I don’t want to see you go off to war because I _love_ you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Carlo didn’t even realise he had said it; it had felt like the natural continuation of their conversation. The way Rodrigo’s eyes widened as he took in what had been said to him, and the way that he suddenly pulled back away from Carlo and stared at him as though he had never seen him before suggested that it was not, or at least that it wasn’t in his eyes.

“Carlo, I… I don’t even know how to begin to respond to that, not how you deserve or at all, I–”

Rodrigo might have been about to reject him in a kind way, or even to tell him that he reciprocated, but Carlo didn’t want to be rejected so he cut him off. “I love you – I… I’m _in love with you_ , I have been for years, and I wish I could just…” For a few seconds, he couldn’t figure out how to put the thought into words. “If I _could_ I would drag you before a priest now and marry you, but I can’t, and you’re _right_ , I probably _will_ end up in an arranged marriage to some Princess, but I don’t _want_ that, I want _you_.” Carlo was rambling, and Rodrigo was making no attempt to reply to him, just staring at him with wide eyes and an expression that Carlo was unable and afraid to try to classify.

“Carlo, I don’t…” Rodrigo didn’t seem to know what he was trying to say but Carlo read a negative meaning into it anyway and rapidly stepped away from Rodrigo.

“God, Rodrigo, I’m sorry, I–”

“Carlo?” Rodrigo tried to cut him off, but if Carlo even heard, he barely paid attention.

“I won’t talk about–”

“Carlo, it’s alright, you can–”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t–”

The fact that they were cutting each other off _would_ have been funny if the topic wasn’t so urgent, but as it was, it was just another level of misery. Carlo didn’t want to find out what Rodrigo had to say, because not knowing if Rodrigo was accepting or rejecting him was better than knowing for sure that he was being rejected, and Rodrigo for his part was too thrown by the confession to assert himself and try to stop Carlo from speaking.

“Carlo, are you going to let me speak or not?” Rodrigo wanted to put his arms around him or do something to bring him out of his panic, but he didn’t dare even to touch him with Carlo being so fraught.

“God, Rodrigo, I shouldn’t have said any of this to you, please just forget that I even–” That was the point at which Rodrigo decided that he had had enough of letting Carlo suffer through his own anxiety and talk endlessly.

He stepped forward and finally grabbed Carlo with an arm around his waist, tangling one hand through his hair and kissing him. For a second, even though he had instigated this whole conversation, Carlo didn’t know how to respond, because he had imagined this scenario in his head so many times, but it had never played out even vaguely like this. After a second, Carlo found that he knew suddenly what to do; he stood up on his toes and leaned into Rodrigo’s body, his arms going around Rodrigo’s neck and Rodrigo cupping his hand around his cheek so gently it was almost as though he was afraid to break him.

Usually in Carlo’s mind, this took place somewhere indoors, and frequently it took place in bed. Usually when Carlo thought about this, it would lead to other things, but now that it really _was_ happening Carlo could barely think of anything, not even how much he wanted Rodrigo. Everything in his mind was completely overpowered by the hum in his head as Rodrigo tipped his head to the side and gently lifted Carlo’s chin with his fingers to kiss him more fiercely. Even with all the times that he had thought about this, though, Carlo had never imagined that it would be at so fraught a time.

He had also never imagined that it would be so wonderful; that Rodrigo would be so gentle with him, and he certainly had never believed that he could love – and _want_ – Rodrigo even more than before. Not for the first time but certainly more intensely than ever before, he felt that he didn’t deserve to have Rodrigo anywhere near him, let along kissing him. But clearly Rodrigo wanted it just as desperately as him; he wouldn’t have instigated it if he didn’t.

When Rodrigo finally pulled away, it wasn’t without a final gentle nudge of his lips against Carlo’s. Carlo buried his face in his shoulder and he couldn’t force himself to care if anybody else could have seen him kissing another man. “Carlo, if this is truly what you want, I…” Rodrigo trailed off, and Carlo could hear from his tone of voice that he wasn’t even capable of forming a coherent thought. Instead, he reached and ran his hand through Carlo’s hair.

They stayed like that for almost a minute, Rodrigo absently stroking Carlo’s hair and Carlo clinging to him as though the world would end if he even tried to let go. Rodrigo suddenly laughed, and Carlo leaned away and blinked up at him. “God, Carlo, I’m sorry, I…” He laughed again, and Carlo couldn’t think what he could be apologising for that was also so amusing to him. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t think you felt the same way; I’ve been throwing myself into your arms for years in the hopes that I could make myself think you did.”

Carlo laughed too. “I’ve been just as bad!” As he spoke, he leaned up and stroked Rodrigo’s cheek gently with the fingers of one hand. “I didn’t think _you_ could possibly have any feelings for me; you must have thought I was…” He shook his head. “I don’t _know_ what you must have thought.” He laughed again, this time burying his face in Rodrigo’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’ve thought various things,” Rodrigo laughed. “Very few of them were things that I want to say out loud where we could be overheard.” Carlo’s cheeks went red, but he still couldn’t help but like the idea of anybody, let alone _Rodrigo_ , thinking of him like that. “I’m sure I’ll be able to tell you tonight.” Rodrigo leaned close to Carlo’s ear as he said this, and Carlo took the opportunity to kiss him again as soon as it was presented.

“God, I still can’t believe you even want me,” Carlo admitted, even though the way that Rodrigo lifted his chin and went back to kiss him again as soon as he pulled away made that much abundantly obvious. The hand not on Carlo’s cheek moved from being tangled through Carlo’s hair to resting on his lower back, and Carlo gasped with shock and arousal as he pressed closer again Rodrigo’s body.

“Carlo…” Rodrigo was still kissing him, and it was obvious from his tone that he could barely have a coherent thought for how much he needed this, needed Carlo. “God, you don’t know how _long_ I’ve wanted this for,” he almost growled. “Even _I_ don’t think I know how long I’ve wanted this for any more.”

“Well…” Carlo started, but he gasped and stopped abruptly when Rodrigo moved to press his lips against his neck. “Rather than starting an arithmetic lesson, Rodrigo, why don’t we…” Carlo trailed off, all the thoughts in his head being replaced the love and _need_ that he felt for Rodrigo.

“Is that what you want?” Even though Carlo had been kissing Rodrigo for several minutes and had just confessed to being in love with him and wanting to marry him, it was obvious from his tone that Rodrigo was completely sincere and not teasing. “I don’t want to…” He pressed his face against Carlo’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Or to hurt you.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of hurting me,” Carlo mumbled, somehow managing to force the words out through the fog in his mind. It was somewhat easier to phrase it that way than to say that he felt that he _deserved_ to be hurt, for how he had hurt Rodrigo’s feelings and for how entitled he had been, even if it _had_ had good results. “Of course it’s what I want.” He moved Rodrigo’s face from against his neck, because even if he hadn’t been in love with Rodrigo for so long and Rodrigo hadn’t been kissing him that skin was especially sensitive.

As Rodrigo pulled away, he bit gently at the pulse point at Carlo’s neck. Carlo squeaked at the sensation. “You are giving me… a very confused message.” As he said this, Carlo tangled his fingers through Rodrigo’s hair and tugged lightly, and he was extremely gratified and more than a little aroused when Rodrigo _growled_ in response.

“What, would you rather I just took you here?”

Carlo tried to reply coherently, but the tone of Rodrigo’s voice as he made the suggestion just _did_ things to him. Even though the answer was probably obvious, Carlo could tell that Rodrigo did genuinely want to know; that he would feel uncomfortable proceeding if there was even the _slightest_ doubt in his mind that Carlo desperately wanted this.

It still became impossible for him to even try for a good few seconds. “ _God_ yes,” Carlo finally mumbled.

He hadn’t realised until now, but Rodrigo had him pressed back against one of the ramparts of the castle and was supporting his weight in a way that meant that Carlo could wrap his arms around him and put his legs around his waist virtually without Rodrigo losing his balance. _God_ , the fact that Rodrigo was even strong enough to do that was appealing. It was a bad idea, though, so as much as he wanted to, Carlo didn’t do anything of the sort.

“But I think…” That was a lie. Carlo hadn’t had a coherent thought since Rodrigo had first kissed him. His voice trailed off as he tried to come up with the words for what he wanted, but he hit a dead end practically immediately.

“We should go inside.” Fortunately, Rodrigo’s brain was slightly less clouded, even though Carlo could tell that he wasn’t entirely there mentally just be his expression. “And then–” He leaned back down and pressed his lips against Carlo’s again. “ _Anything_ you want me to do.” He mumbled this into Carlo’s mouth, but Carlo knew _exactly_ what he was saying even so.

He pushed Rodrigo away even though he _desperately_ wanted to carry on kissing him, and then grabbed him by both hands and dragged him back into the palace. They were only a short distance from Carlo’s rooms and it was a good thing that it was late enough that no guards or courtiers were lingering, and it was _very_ obvious to even the least observant outsider what they had been doing.

Carlo dragged Rodrigo down onto the bed on top of him as soon as they reached the bedchamber and he was glad when Rodrigo didn’t question what he wanted. It had been so long, and Carlo would have accepted more or less whatever Rodrigo wanted to do to him at this point. They were still kissing, and at the same time as Carlo was holding onto him, Rodrigo’s hands were moving slowly down over Carlo’s hips and his upper thighs in a way that was almost _painfully_ teasing. Carlo tried to resist the urge to flip Rodrigo over, pin him down on the bed, and undress him there and then.

Rodrigo sat up on his knees between Carlo’s thighs, and Carlo almost started whining until Rodrigo hurriedly began removing his own doublet. Carlo pulled his own shirt off and then sat up, knocking Rodrigo’s hands away and pulling the doublet and then the shirt off himself. Rodrigo wouldn’t have admitted to being glad, but he was; his hands were shaking with arousal and adrenaline and God-only-knew what else, and he had been fumbling with the fastening of his doublet.

As soon as Carlo had his and Rodrigo’s shirts off, he immediately pulled Rodrigo back down on top of him and began kissing him again. Carlo wrapped one leg around Rodrigo’s waist and his hands ran down the muscle of Rodrigo’s back, one eventually coming to rest at the nape of his neck, his fingertips tangling through Rodrigo’s hair. Rodrigo held Carlo against him with one hand, and his free hand ran lower and lower down his chest and stomach.

Carlo had thought he would tire of being teased in this way quickly but even though he wanted Rodrigo to an extent that he hadn’t realised was physically possible he was finding this – the touching, the fact that Rodrigo was doggedly moving his hand no lower than the upper hem of Carlo’s breeches, Rodrigo kissing him – incredibly enjoyable. In his mind this had always played out in a couple of minutes: Rodrigo picked him up and threw him onto the bed, and then they both finished in a couple of minutes, and then they held each other and kissed for the rest of the night. This was far, _far_ better than he could ever have believed it would be.

“Carlo, I’m fairly sure of the answer but do you really wa–” Carlo was also fairly sure of what the question would be. He stopped Rodrigo from asking for what felt like the thousandth time if this was what he really wanted by reaching his hand between them and stroking Rodrigo through the fabric of his breeches. “Oh. God.” Rodrigo melted against him, and Carlo would have laughed had he not been amazed by the effect that being touched had on Rodrigo.

“Does that answer your question?” Carlo still teased him gently, even though in truth the fact that he had any power over Rodrigo in this moment, let alone this much, made his knees buckle. He was glad that he was lying down, and the noises that Rodrigo was making as he pressed forward against Carlo’s hand suggested that he was glad too. Carlo continued stroking him through his clothes for a moment, but he had no intention of letting Rodrigo finish before touching him properly, and Rodrigo whimpered, a strange but undeniably erotic noise in his throat, when Carlo pulled his hand away.

For a second when Rodrigo pushed against him Carlo’s vision went completely white and he heard himself gasp at the contact, but Rodrigo sitting up on his knees pulled him back down to earth. Carlo tried to grumble or in some way suggest that he had been enjoying what Rodrigo was doing – but Rodrigo’s expression suggested that he was going to get something _far_ more pleasurable and interesting in a moment.

This particular line of thinking was confirmed when Rodrigo slid a little way down Carlo’s body, kissing and nipping his way down Carlo’s chest and stomach at the same time as he began removing the rest of Carlo’s clothes. Carlo lifted his hips just a little to make it easier for Rodrigo to completely remove his hose, but he still ended up kicking the clothes off himself to stop Rodrigo from fumbling with the clothing any more than he already was doing. Rodrigo briefly allowed Carlo to sit up for a second and reciprocate by finishing undressing him, not least because his hands were shaking too much to even vaguely be able to manage.

Now that they were both undressed, Rodrigo pushed Carlo slowly back down onto the bed, and even though the gesture was firm, Carlo could still feel Rodrigo’s hands shaking the slightest bit against his skin. Rodrigo was clearly nervous, but Carlo still gasped and gripped the sheets with one hand, pressing the other over his mouth to keep from crying out as Rodrigo ran his tongue slowly up the underside of his cock. He moved slowly from base to tip in a way that was somehow _more_ teasing than when Rodrigo had not been touching him at all, and Carlo gasped and twisted his hand further into the sheets as Rodrigo took him all the way into his mouth.

Rodrigo laughed around him in a way that both felt and sounded truly obscene, and when Carlo leaned his head back against the pillows with a groan, Rodrigo drew his thigh up over his shoulder. As he did this, Carlo unwound his fingers from around the bedclothes and tangled them in Rodrigo’s hair. He was wary of pulling Rodrigo’s hair too hard, or doing anything too aggressive, barely able to remember the noise that Rodrigo had made when his hair had been lightly tugged at earlier. Despite the fact that Carlo wanted to be considerate, though, every so often Rodrigo would do something especially pleasurable with his tongue or trace his fingers over a sensitive spot on Carlo’s thigh and he would buck against him and jerk his hand against Rodrigo’s scalp.

Carlo had never been touched by another person, let alone one he had wanted to be with as desperately and for as long as he had Rodrigo, but he could tell that, for all the affection that Rodrigo was giving him, _he_ was completely new to it as well. That had been obvious when Carlo had touched him through his clothing, and even though he was _remarkably_ good at this, Carlo could tell that he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing.

Rodrigo pulled off just as the tension between Carlo's thighs began to build to an almost unbearable level, trailing slowly back up Carlo’s body and returning to kissing him at the same time as moving the two of them so that Carlo was knelt astride Rodrigo’s thighs. Carlo continued kissing him and Rodrigo’s hand was low down on his back in a way that pressed their bodies together at an angle with just enough friction to be palpable but not quite _enough_. Carlo pushed forward against him a little and rocked his hips against Rodrigo’s until Rodrigo gasped and tipped his head back.

When he saw the opportunity, Carlo leaned forwards and starting nibbling and kissing along Rodrigo’s neck, allowing Rodrigo to tangle his fingers through his hair and grip his shoulder tightly. Carlo was positioned exactly right now that Rodrigo had moved to be able to reach between his and Rodrigo’s bodies and wrap his hand around both of them together, and when he did, Rodrigo gasped and pushed his hips forward and into Carlo’s hand.

The friction against him when Rodrigo began rocking against his hand made Carlo groan, and he leaned in and kissed Rodrigo again. The sound – half way between a whimper and a moan – that Rodrigo made against Carlo’s lips in response to being touched and being kissed was almost unbearably arousing to Carlo, and Carlo could barely think as Rodrigo’s hand traced slowly down his chest and stomach. Rodrigo pulled Carlo’s hand away from them, and then wrapped his hand around Carlo, stroking him slowly and kissing him.

 _God_ , Carlo loved him. He hadn’t realised it was possible to love somebody this much – but Rodrigo was holding him and kissing him, and even though he was still teasing Carlo, letting him get close and then pulling back just as Carlo was right on the edge, Carlo absolutely adored him. He was sure that part of it was the fact that nobody had ever said that they loved him and really meant it, and that nobody had ever truly _cared_ about him before in this way, but he would sooner die than be separated from Rodrigo.

He tried to push that thought out of his mind, though, and Rodrigo seemed to know that something was amiss because he gently pushed Carlo back down onto his back on the bed and slid back down the bed. Carlo wanted to continue kissing him, but at the same time Rodrigo was capable of doing some truly remarkable things to Carlo with very little effort. This thought, along with every other, completely left Carlo’s head as Rodrigo took him back into his mouth, and Carlo tried not to buck against him to the extent that he would accidentally choke him.

Rodrigo pulled back just a little to suck at the head of his cock, his tongue running across the tip in a way that made Carlo incapable of even forming words. Rodrigo’s hand went around the base of his cock, teasing with his fingers and pulling back with his mouth and his hand every time the sounds that Carlo made became needier. Carlo gasped every time Rodrigo shifted his head or his hand, his own fingers wrapped around Rodrigo’s hair and digging into his scalp slightly.

“Rodrigo, I–” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Rodrigo pulled away again. He pulled Carlo back into his arms, lying between his thighs and kissing him again as though he was unable to stop touching Carlo. When he was positioned against Carlo, Rodrigo took them both into his hand as Carlo had before, and Carlo gasped and rutted against his hips, pulling away from Rodrigo’s lips for a moment to gasp out, “God, where did you learn to do that?”

Rodrigo moved to kiss along Carlo’s neck and jaw and the top of his chest, mumbling, “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.” He looked back up at Carlo from where he was sucking at Carlo’s neck. There were already bruises beginning to appear on his skin from Rodrigo’s biting, and Rodrigo couldn’t resist the need to leave more. The bruises were attractive to begin with, but the fact that it was Carlo, the heir to the throne, that he was marking in this way had a powerful effect. “Or maybe I’ll show you.”

Carlo wondered for a second through the haze in his mind just what Rodrigo had been _doing_ when he had supposedly been studying for the priesthood, but the thought completely dissipated in a couple of seconds as Rodrigo pressed their bodies closer together. “I…” Carlo groaned and clung tighter to Rodrigo, his head burying against his shoulder and his fingernails digging into Rodrigo’s shoulders. “Oh, God. Rodrigo, I…”

Carlo brought one hand up from where he had been clinging onto Rodrigo’s shoulder and tangled his fingers through his hair. He kissed Rodrigo more and more forcefully, sucking and biting at his lower lip and whimpering into Rodrigo’s mouth, and this time, _this_ time, Rodrigo didn’t pull back or stop just before Carlo finished. He spilled over Rodrigo’s hand with an incoherent groan, pulling away and burying his face in the crook of Rodrigo’s neck.

Carlo waited for a minute to catch his breath, and then carefully pushed Rodrigo off him and onto his back. Rodrigo moaned and shifted needily under Carlo as the prince took him fully into his hand. It only took a few more seconds, Carlo holding Rodrigo and kissing him as he stroked him, until Rodrigo suddenly grabbed him and pulled him down onto him. He came over his own stomach and Carlo’s hand, and Carlo could hear him panting for a few seconds as he came back down to earth.

When Rodrigo let go of him, Carlo picked up one of their discarded shirts from the floor – it could have been his or Rodrigo’s; he didn’t notice or care – to use to clean them up with. But Rodrigo just pulled Carlo down on top of him again, holding him and stroking his hair with a look of hazy astonishment. They were both exhausted both from the exertion and what had lead to it, and Carlo tried to put the fact that Rodrigo would be leaving him soon to go to Malta out of his head. Instead, he put his head against Rodrigo’s chest and listened as his heartbeat slowed back down.

Rodrigo’s fingers tangled gently through his hair, not pulling any more and just stroking his head lightly. As Carlo leaned into the touch, he was astounded that Rodrigo had wanted to touch him, let alone that he was in his bed now and holding him. Rodrigo was so kind and so good, and he didn’t seem to see Carlo as only a pawn to use to get close to his father, but he loved him for _him_. Carlo didn’t know how he had been so lucky not only to meet somebody like Rodrigo but for Rodrigo to love him, let alone to have sex with him.

He was aware, but only in a foggy way, of Rodrigo looking down at him as he stroked his hair, and for a moment Carlo was afraid that something was wrong. He looked up at Rodrigo, and was somehow relieved when Rodrigo kissed him again, stroking his hair back off his forehead where it was stuck to his face with sweat. Yes, Carlo and Rodrigo had just had sex, but he somehow still couldn’t shake the feeling that it was some sort of joke; that Rodrigo would just leave as soon as they were done. But Rodrigo was holding him and looking at him as though he was some sort of angel or some precious, delicate creature, and Carlo could see adoration in his eyes.

Carlo was starting to fall asleep – he was exhausted all the time anyway because he rarely got a full night of sleep; what he and Rodrigo had just done just confounded it. Rodrigo shifted to wrap his arms around him properly and pulled the covers up over him as Carlo curled up on his side and cuddled into his chest. Rodrigo was obviously tired, but Carlo could also tell that he was distracted by something, even as he moved onto his side to hold Carlo more tightly and pressed his lips against Carlo’s forehead.

Carlo almost didn’t want to broach the subject, but he needed to ask. “Rodrigo, I…” He looked up at him, and Rodrigo frowned groggily at him. Carlo felt bad; he could tell that he had starting to fall asleep when Carlo had spoken. “I need to know. When are you leaving for Malta?”

“I…” Rodrigo cringed and looked away. “I leave on Monday.” It was Saturday now. Carlo pressed his face against Rodrigo’s chest. “I’m sorry, Carlo.”

“I understand,” Carlo mumbled, but he couldn’t bring himself to move his face from against Rodrigo’s chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go, but I understand.” He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Rodrigo for fear that he would just burst into tears the second he met Rodrigo’s eyes.

“I promise I’ll come back.” Rodrigo’s voice was soft, and Carlo couldn’t see how somebody whose voice was so gentle and who was so loving towards him _could_ go and fight in a war. He tried to push the thought out of his mind as he leaned up to kiss Rodrigo’s lips again.

“I promise I’ll wait.” He rested his forehead against Rodrigo’s as he spoke, and Rodrigo leaned in and pressed his lips softly against Carlo’s again, taking him into his arms and cradling him against his chest.

Carlo had been able to feel himself beginning to doze off before when they had just been talking, but now that they were just lying together, he was sure that he wouldn’t be awake for more than a couple of minutes. Rodrigo was warm, and he loved Carlo so much; he was stroking Carlo’s hair with the fingers of one hand, his free hand resting against Carlo’s lower back and rubbing small, slow circles into the skin.

The combination of physical and psychological exhaustion, the fact that Rodrigo was so warm and affectionate, and the hand rubbing his back meant that Carlo fell asleep in a matter of minutes. Rodrigo almost tried to keep himself awake, but the fact that Carlo was holding onto him and the feeling of his breath against his chest where he was dozing against him was oddly soporific, and he fell asleep a couple of minutes after Carlo did.


End file.
